


Clouds in My Coffee

by imifumei



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, KAT-TUN (Band)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:28:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24576073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imifumei/pseuds/imifumei
Summary: In case of emo, employ bread.
Kudos: 2





	Clouds in My Coffee

Originally posted to LiveJournal, 16 October 2009.  
Written for my dearest Pipkins. Today will be better, my lovely.

Clouds In My Coffee  
Ueda and Kame  
G  
~1000 words  
 _In case of emo, employ bread._

The sinking feeling started before he'd even opened his eyes. Some days you just did not want to get out of bed. For a few minutes he kept his eyes closed, willing himself to fall back asleep in the hope that when he woke again it would be with a better disposition but eventually he admitted defeat and opened his eyes to the watery light of dawn filtering through his bedroom curtains and floating coolly across his ceiling. 

On days such as this, it took tremendous effort to drag himself from his bed despite the fact that no matter how he turned he couldn't seem to get comfortable. He sheets were cool against his skin; scratchy and clammy, a fine Egyptian cotton mist of discontentment settled snugly over every inch of him. He pealed them back to reveal his bare skin to the chilled, biting early-autumn air and swung his legs out of bed.

The creak of the floor echoed his own sneer of hatred for the accursed morning. He shambled dispiritedly to the shower and stepped inside, letting the heat of the spray seep into his still-slumbering core, and began the mantra he required to get through days like this. 

_Take a deep breath. Get through work today. Go to the gym. Blow off some steam. Take a deep breath. . ._

He finished his shower and went into his room to dress but couldn't seem to track down the grey sweater that suited his mood. Today he wanted that extra layer of soothing, charcoal, woolen knit armor. Pulling a shirt over his head while trudging down the stairs he called out.

"Mother? Have you seen my grey sweater?" He came up short near the kitchen door at the sound of a familiar giggle. That was not his mom. 

Not only that but he wasn't ready yet to face this. He needed the tedium of the ride to work in order to finish gearing up. But no. He was very sure that on the other side of the door Kame was schmoozing his mother. At eight o'clock in the morning Kame was in his kitchen schmoozing his mother.

"Coffee, Kamenashi-kun?"

"Thank you, Ueda-san."

Ueda put on his most neutral face and pushed open the door to the kitchen. "Good morning, Kame."

Kame grinned liked he belonged at Ueda's breakfast table, with the sunlight spilling across cheery yellow tiles and steam rising from his mug, chatting with Ueda's mother. Like this was normal. 

Ueda could barely summon the energy to want to wipe the smile off of Kame's face. He opened his mouth to speak but his mother headed him off.

"Tatsuya, sweetheart, I'm just off to the market. Kamenashi-kun has brought some breakfast for you both, wasn't that thoughtful of him?"

"Yeah." Ueda answered warily. He bid his mother goodbye watching Kame sip his coffee and pouring himself a cup of the hot, bitter brew before finally addressing his bandmate. "What are you doing here so early?"

Kame sighed. "I don't feel like going to work today either."

"What?" Ueda didn't think he'd said anything of the sort aloud.

"I do actually notice when the rest of you guys get worn out."

Ueda looked at him, puzzled. 

"I don't think the others have noticed. . .well, maybe Maru, but I see you most days. I'm there too. I know you're worn out."

"I'm fine."

"I'm worn out too, Tat-chan."

Ueda wasn't really in the mood for a pep talk. He didn't need a heart-to-heart. He also didn't need to hear Kame tell him to 'suck it up and go to work because people had expectations and if Kame had to live up to them then so did he,' which is what he was pretty sure was about to come out of Kame's mouth, because he already knew that and it being true didn't mean he had to listen to it from Kame. What he _needed_ was for his bandmates to keep out of his business for as long as he kept his head down, up, to the left, more thoughtful, strike a pose, now smile. . . which he always did.

"Look, Kame-"

"I'm not here to lecture you." Kame tossed off the remark more as a comeback to words Ueda hadn't yet said than as a reassurance. "I brought breakfast." Kame pushed a bag across the breakfast table toward Ueda. He'd just inhaled deeply, readying himself to tell Kame where he could stuff his breakfast when he got a whiff of what was in the bag.

It smelled warm, slightly toasty, nutty and buttery. From one sniff he knew that what was in the bag would melt sweetly, subtly over his tongue. It would taste like a warm summer morning. There would be the yeasty, comforting aroma of tradition; the chewy, luxurious sensation of hours of work put into the kneading and proofing of the dough. He'd be able to feel the lingering warmth of the fire from the oven spreading from his mouth inexorably outward. 

It was baked joy; a sunrise of flaky, honey colored, crusty bliss.

Ueda opened his eyes from his whole-grain reverie to search Kame's face.

Kame was ignoring him in favor of his own cloud-like roll of heaven, erm, that is, challah bread. Ueda just looked at him a little quizzically until Kame looked up from his breakfast.

". . .what?" Kame asked, paused, wiped imaginary crumbs from his face and looked at Ueda expectantly, as though waiting for Ueda to explain why he was acting so strangely.

After a moment a small, slow smile spread across Ueda's face. "Nothing."

"Well? Eat. It might still be warm. I just brought them from the bakery."

Ueda tore in. It was just as lovely as he imagined. Perfect and delicious. 

Maybe this day wouldn't be a complete loss.


End file.
